


Sweet one, you should stop me there

by crookedspoon



Series: Exchange Fics [79]
Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Introspection, Little Black Dress Flash 2020, Missing Scene, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Ianthe Tridentarius, Twincest, if you squint i guess - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Her sister and her cavalier are an endless source of interpersonal drama that variably entertains Ianthe and bores her to tears. Today, frustration is twanging in the air like untuned strings, and for once, it's not aimed at her. Though maybe it would be if they were at all aware of her presence, which they are decidedly not.
Relationships: Naberius Tern/Coronabeth Tridentarius/Ianthe Tridentarius
Series: Exchange Fics [79]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/51139
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13
Collections: Little Black Dress Flash 2020





	Sweet one, you should stop me there

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inquisitor_tohru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/gifts).



> When I saw your opt-in pairing, inquisitor_tohru, I knew I had to write it! I was quite surprised to find out it hadn't been done before, though, so I hope I didn't muck it up too bad.
> 
> Takes place between Corona's sword fight with Gideon and Dulcinea's "explanation" about Pro, which in turn takes place the night before the Third finds the last key.
> 
> Kinktober 2020, Day 14: ~~NTR~~ | **Face-sitting** | ~~Collaring~~

"You don't know what it's like," Corona is saying through gritted teeth. "You got to learn the sword. You get to fight duels. Be a cav. What do _I_ get?"

There's no answer.

It's difficult enough to talk with one's mouth full, and Babs might not even have heard. Corona's shapely golden thighs make for spectacular ear muffs. His arms are curled around them, biceps flexing with the same pitiful desperation as his rigid cock is flexing against his abdomen. Though whether his intention is to peel her off of him or to secure her in place is hard to say. His desire for Corona may demand one thing, his desire for oxygen another.

Her sister and her cavalier are an endless source of interpersonal drama that variably entertains Ianthe and bores her to tears. Today, frustration is twanging in the air like untuned strings, and for once, it's not aimed at her. Though maybe it would be if they were at all aware of her presence, which they are decidedly not. This lack of caution is disappointing at best. If not for Ianthe's blood wards, anyone could be sneaking up on them. And whatever would they do then?

Silent as a wraith, Ianthe shakes her head and walks around to her side of the elaborately carved bed she shares with her sister. The lush carpets covering the gleaming floor of their bedchamber soak up any sound her footsteps would have made. Ianthe has made the background her demesne, because being overlooked has its uses. It facilitates observation, for one thing.

Unaware of her, Corona tilts her head back, baring her flaming cheeks to the heavy canopy above. Her mouth writhes like a caterpillar and her rich curls tumble artfully over her shoulders as she rocks her hips against Babs's face. Like any good cavalier, he lets her do as she must, even if it means having his ridiculous hair ruined. Slick strands of it are peeking through her white-knuckled grip, though how Corona manages to hold onto them with all that pomade is beyond Ianthe. Then again, Corona has always had a way to make things work out in her favour. If she hadn't, their secret would have been found out a long time ago. There's only so much Ianthe can do to keep up the charade. It depends on them both playing their allotted parts.

Without bothering to take off her cloak, she slips onto the nest of pillows at the head of their bed and asks: "Are you going to be done anytime soon?" 

Corona's eyes widen, although Ianthe sees them for no more than a second, before Babs has flipped her sister onto her back. As if shielding her body would be doing any good at this point.

"Relax," Ianthe says, already exhausted by this belated display of cavalierly protectiveness. "If it weren't me, you'd probably be dead already."

"Thanks," Babs sneers so hard Ianthe would be afraid he'd pop a blood vessel if she cared at all. "That's _so_ reassuring."

"You're ever so welcome."

Still glaring, he swipes a hand through his crumpled hair to shape it back into form.

" _Babs!"_ Corona's voice is pathetically plaintive as she pushes feebly against his shoulders. "You ruined it."

"How have _I_ ruined it?" he complains. "Ianthe is the one who—"

Corona cups her hand over his glistening chin. "Be a good boy and finish what you started. Please?"

Babs wrenches his head away with a petulant twist to his mouth, more boy than man. "Fine, princess."

Grumbling, he slides off the bed, his head bracketed by Corona's sharp knees. From this angle, Ianthe spots the occasional bitemark imprinted on his shoulders and chest. She ignores the sudden flash of heat that sparks through her. It's cute how Corona vents her frustrations on their cav – altough admittedly it would be even cuter if she were a necromancer in her own right. There would be so much she could share with her sister, but alas. It's a daydream she had given up by the time they were six.

Ianthe opens her mouth to say that they don't have time for this, just as Corona nestles her head in her lap. She peers up at her with eyes the deep lustre of amethysts. Her own are nothing but a pale shadow of her twin's.

"How much longer?" Corona asks and then jerks as Babs puts his tongue to better use than talking back.

"Soon, darling," Ianthe croons, brushing Corona's golden locks out of her face. "I'm close. There's one more piece is missing, although I'm fairly sure of what it might be."

Corona nods, her smile dreamy and far away. "I never doubted that you could do it."

She doesn't ask what it would mean for them if Ianthe finally solved the puzzle, and Ianthe wonders if she's ever thought about it all. Or if she simply believed that everything will go on as before, that she will be by Ianthe's side while Ianthe works her necromancy for the both of them. _You will be so sorely disappointed when you find out._ If Ianthe had a heart to speak of, she might have felt remorse just to think it, but she doesn't. Remorse is a useless emotion in the face of the power that Lyctorhood offers.

Still, she feels strangely tender as Corona clutches her hand and presses open-mouthed kisses to the back of it.

"Princess," Babs moans just in that moment, already pulling back and ready to crawl up onto the bed, "let me—"

" _Babs,"_ Corona beseeches him a lot more calmly than Ianthe would have expected. The kick Corona gives him, she did foresee, however. "You can't just _stop_ now. You'll have plenty of time to finish yourself off later."

"Actually," Ianthe interrupts their private conversation, with more than a hint of smugness, "we've been summoned."

"What?" they both say, wearing twin expressions of _do not want._ "By whom? And why didn't you say so before?"

"Sextus wants us to come." ("Great," drawls Babs, "I'm with him there.") "They found the Seventh cavalier. Or part of him. He has questions for the duchess."

"He can drill holes into her for all I care," Babs says moodily. "What does that have to do with us?"

Corona hesitates, frowning up at Ianthe, still clutching her hand. "Is it safe? It might be a trap."

"It's going to be so _dull,_ but it'll look suspicious if we stay away."

As much as Ianthe enjoys a good mystery, she grudgingly has to admit she'd much rather watch her sister get railed into oblivion by their cav. Corona is beautiful like this, flushed and in disarray, so radiant with thalergy Ianthe can feel it glowing against her skin.

"You can continue this later," she says.

Babs sniffs in disdain but Corona only nods, slowly rolling herself up on her elbows. "Will you—" she frowns and avoid Ianthe's gaze, worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth, "will you join us?"

Sex bores Ianthe, but if her understanding of the Lyctor challenges is correct – and why wouldn't it be? – this will be the last night they spend together in this particular constellation. Ianthe fully expects to have cracked the puzzle by tomorrow. In the face of all that power that will be available to her, she can be gracious and grant Corona that one final wish.

"Of course, doll," she says and pats her sister's cheek. "As soon as we're back from the Seventh."

"Ugh, _whatever."_ Babs rolls his eyes and stalks off into the bathroom, no doubt to fix his hair first thing and his face second.

Ianthe's gaze follows him and a small smile settles on her lips as the door closes behind him. She has practice eating bits and pieces of him, keratin and blood, but she thinks she's going to enjoy devouring him whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Warm Blood" by Carly Rae Jepsen.


End file.
